Page 54 of The Tryout

Avery Lawson 9:38 PM

That’s what I want to know

My roommate is sitting here taking deep breaths and pretending he doesn’t care but…what the fuck?

Ethan Tremblay 9:40 PM

I don’t know

But I’ll find out

Jamie Carter 9:42 PM

I don’t want to play with Robertson

Tell Finn that, ok?

Avery Lawson 9:43 PM

Around me, the boys are planning to go out, talking about which bar on Court is likely to have the most bachelorette parties. But all I can see is Finn, shoulders down and forward, as though he’s trying to shrink himself down to fit inside his locker.

“Avery, you coming?” Keller asks.

He’s a nice guy, and definitely starting to come out of his shell a bit more. But right now I’ve got other priorities.

“Maybe. Let me drop my stuff at home and see, okay?”

Novak slaps my back, and I wonder if he knows what I’m thinking.

“Alright, first round’s on me for anyone who can beat me to O’Keefe’s,” he says, walking briskly out the door. Sure enough, that gets the boys moving, gear getting thrown into bags and pads hung haphazardly in lockers. Before long, it’s just me and Finn in the locker room.

“You can go,” he says, and I can hear how thick his voice is in those few words.

“No, buddy, I really can’t.”

I lean against the locker next to his, waiting for him to be ready to look at me. It takes a minute or two, but he does; sure enough, his eyes are bloodshot and filled with tears.

“Let’s go home, okay?”

He nods, and as the tears start to fall, allows me to guide him out the door.

The walk home is quiet. I go a different way than usual. Instead of following the bright lights and bustle of people from the arena down toward Court, we cut West early, finding ourselves along a road mostly occupied by city buses.

“I’m using my food privileges tonight. Any requests?”

At first, he shakes his head. Then, he pauses.

“...Pho? Please?”

I jump on my delivery app and make the order, leaving a note for Mr. Tran telling him that Finn is sick and apologizing for not coming in person. I order too much food – more than Finn would normally allow, if I’m honest.

When we get to the apartment, he trudges up the stairs, walking straight from our front door to his room, the door closing behind him. I worry for a moment that I should follow, barge into his space and comfort him, whether he likes it or not. Before I can, I hear his shower start up. Maybe it’s best to let him drown his sorrows on his own for a bit.

The food delivery arrives and I put it all out on the counter. I’m not at all surprised to find that Mr. Tran has enclosed an extra congee and lemon honey tea for Finn, with instructions to make him finish both.

Finally, I have no other way to avoid the inevitable, and walk back to his room, knocking gently on the door.

“Food’s here.”